


A Date with the Doctor

by Kethma



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kethma/pseuds/Kethma
Summary: The Doctor and River find trouble brewing at an inn in Bethlehem on a very special night.





	

Torchlight flickered from crude sconces, barely illuminating the packed dirt road that led through the little town of clay houses. The streets were quiet and empty but for two figures carefully navigating the dark.

“I thought you said this was a date.” The woman’s voice held more challenge than complaint.

“Did I?” The man’s reply had a distracted air to it.

“You said you were taking me somewhere romantic.”

“This is romantic. Cool night air, clear starry sky. What’s not romantic about that?”

The man stepped into a pool of light, holding a slender metal rod in front of him, its tip glowing green. A faint, high-pitched whistle emanated from the device as he swept it before him. He was not dressed according to the local custom of robes and headwraps, but sported a brown tweed jacket over dark trousers and a white shirt with a red bowtie about the collar. A mop of brown hair fell over his forehead, shading dark eyes that seemed impossibly old given the context of his youthful face.

He flicked the glowing instrument upright, studying it intently as his companion joined him in the circle of light.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, pushing a formidable mass of unruly strawberry blond curls out of her face. “Maybe it’s the fact that your sonic screwdriver is getting more action than I am.” She rested a hand on her hip, green eyes sparkling above red lips curled in a mischievous smile.

“Not for long,” the man replied, peering into the darkness. He pointed his screwdriver directly ahead. “The real action is that way.”

“Promises, promises,” the woman purred, but her companion had already dashed off.

“Come on, River, keep up,” he called, his voice drifting from some distance away.

River sighed and adjusted the bodice of her low-cut, green leather gown. “Coming, Sweetie,” she answered in resigned tones, and then she followed the man into the dark.

 

A short time later, the duo stood before a two-story stucco building in desperate need of repair. The façade was crumbling in several places, revealing the clay bricks beneath, several of which were broken, giving the structure a pock-marked appearance. A pair of tall, blazing torches stuck into the ground lit the front door with a welcoming glow.

“Where are we anyway?” River asked.

“Earth. Bethlehem. Sometime between…” The man stuck out his tongue, tasting the air. “… 5 BC and 5 AD.”

“So on average, we’ve come to the year 0?”

“If you like.”

“And what’s in here?” She nodded at the building.

“I don’t know,” the man answered. “But whatever it is, it’s using some kind of bio-morphing technology.”

“Shape-shifters? Well, now, that does sound naughty.”

The man jutted out a large, square jaw. “Not necessarily,” he countered. “They could just be tourists on holiday, trying to blend in with the natives. Really, River, why must you always assume the worst?”

“Because I know how it works with you, Sweetie. When has it ever been that simple?”

“Well…” the man hedged. “You never know. It could happen.” He cast her a sideways look. “Someday.”

“All right, then, let’s just see, shall we?” Before the man could utter a word in protest, River banged a fist on the door three times in rapid succession.

“What are you…?” the man spluttered, but River just smiled sweetly at him.

He hastily tucked his sonic screwdriver into his jacket pocket as they heard the sound of the bolt being drawn back on the door. A moment later, a middle-aged man with a fringe of dark hair encircling a bald pate peered out at them. He was clad in a long grey tunic, loosely belted at the waist with a wide sash.

“Hello,” River’s companion said quickly. “Good evening. How are you? Sorry to disturb. I’m the Doctor and this is River, and we were just wondering…” He trailed off, clearly unsure what he should be wondering about.

But a friendly smile appeared on the local’s broad face, and he opened the door wide. “If we have any rooms?”

“Er… Yes. Exactly. We’re looking for a place to stay.”

“You’re in luck,” the innkeeper said, motioning them inside. “Every establishment in town is booked to overflowing, but we’ve just had a… uh… cancellation.”

“Oh, well, that _is_ lucky,” said the Doctor, rubbing his hands together. “Isn’t that lucky, River?”

“Unbelievably lucky,” River agreed.

The Doctor studied the inn’s entryway with interest as the proprietor closed and barred the door behind them. The room was dimly lit with a collection of lanterns, the largest of which stood on a broad table beside what appeared to be a registry parchment. Behind the table, a plank hung on the wall, lined with a row of large, black nails that served as hooks from which a series of iron keys dangled.

“Now then,” the inn keep said, taking a seat behind the table and turning the registry to face his guests. “If you’d just like to sign here?” He held out a reed pen.

River glanced meaningfully at the Doctor, but his eyes were on the keys. She accepted the pen and bent over the scroll, scratching her name on it, even as she gave the innkeeper a healthy view of her cleavage. Her eyes flicked up to the innkeeper’s as she finished writing, but his attention was firmly fixed on her face.

She straightened and passed the pen to the Doctor, who seemed startled to have the implement thrust into his hand. The innkeeper pushed the parchment further across the table, but the Doctor only pointed the pen’s tip at the key rack.

“I thought you said all the rooms were booked.”

“What?” The innkeeper glanced over his shoulder and flushed. “Oh, yes. Those are spares. We keep spare keys to all the rooms, just in case. You know.”

“Of course.” The Doctor smiled knowingly. “One can never be too careful, eh?”

“No, indeed.” The innkeeper beamed.

“Especially when traveling through unfamiliar territory.”

“Quite right.”

“Thousands of light years from home.”

“Yes, that’s true…” The innkeeper froze, staring wide-eyed at the Doctor.

The Doctor stared back, his smile fixed. “Gotcha.”

For one interminable moment, no one moved. Then the innkeeper dove across the table with an other-worldly shriek. The Doctor and River leapt aside, but instead of attacking, the shape-shifter bounded through a side door, slamming it behind him.

“Oh, no, now don’t run,” the Doctor whined. “Why do they always run?”

He started for the door even as River flicked aside a panel in her skirt and pulled a blaster from a holster strapped to her thigh.

The Doctor stopped, his mouth dropping open in affront. “You brought a gun to a date?”

River’s eyes gleamed. “With you? Always.”

Grunting, the Doctor started for the door again, but then turned back. “Hang on. What do you mean, ‘with you?’ Who else have you been dating?”

River’s eyes widened in a look of pure innocence. “It’s just a figure of speech, Sweetie. No need to get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” the Doctor said, a little too quickly. “Just… curious, that’s all. It’s not as if we’re married. If you want to see other people, that’s your business.”

“Really?” River breathed, her face filling with delight. “How… interesting.”

“’Interesting?’” The Doctor eyed her suspiciously. “What’s ‘interesting’ about it?”

Before River could answer, the door through which the alien had disappeared exploded in a burst of shards. The Doctor and River threw up their arms to shield themselves from the debris, even as a wiry creature with sharp claws, rough, bark-like skin, and a long, whipping tail bounded out at them.

River leveled her blaster at it, but a raptor-like shriek from behind had her whirling to face a new threat as a second creature sprang down the stairs leading to the second story. Before she could get a shot off, the alien’s tail snapped over its head, knocking the gun from her hand. River dove after it, even as it skidded across the floor. She jerked her hand back with an oath, however, as the alien who had been the innkeeper spit a glob of mucus at her, which landed on the gun and immediately began to dissolve it in a hiss of acid.

Rolling to her feet, she came up back to back with the Doctor, who had drawn his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and was brandishing it before him.

“Getting enough action now?” he asked cheerfully.

“Not exactly what I was hoping for.” She watched the innkeeper-alien warily as it stalked closer.

“You can hardly hold me responsible for your expectations.” The Doctor kept his screwdriver trained on the second alien as it slowly closed in on him.

River chuckled deep in her throat. “Oh, I never said it wasn’t what I _expected_.”

“Really? Acid-spitting aliens? _That’s_ what you expected?”

“Well, not specifically…” River began.

“Hang on,” the Doctor interrupted. “Acid-spitting aliens that look like wood and use bio-morphing technology?” He squinted his eyes at the creature before him, then sucked in a long breath. “I know who you are!”

The alien paused in its advance and hissed.

“What’s more, I know what you’re doing here, and I’m afraid I can’t allow it.”

The creature made a huffing noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“It doesn’t seem particularly concerned,” River observed.

“Well, that’s because it doesn’t know my plan.”

“You have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan. I’m the Doctor.”

The creature drew itself up to its full height, towering over the Doctor and River, and opened its mouth wide. The Doctor thumbed the controls on his screwdriver.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” River said.

“I’m fairly sure you know it already.”

“Oh, _that_ plan.”

The alien let loose a huge ball of acid aimed right at the Doctor, who activated his screwdriver simultaneously. A piercing trill split the air, and the glob exploded backwards, hitting the alien full in the face.

“Run!” the Doctor yelled, pelting past the creature and up the stairs, River close on his heels. They gained the landing, a cramped space with two openings leading off it to either side. The Doctor dove through the left-hand portal, leading River into a narrow hallway lined with sturdy wooden doors. Without a second’s hesitation, he selected the third unit, dragging River in behind him and slamming the door. A quick application of his screwdriver against the lock, and the bolt clicked into place.

The room was tiny, with barely enough room for a small bed, the two fugitives, and the faceless body that lay sprawled on the floor.

“Impressive maneuver, Sweetie,” River said, with barely a glance at the corpse. “How long do you think that will hold them?”

“Not long,” the Doctor said, bending to examine the skull grinning out from a head that was fully intact, save for the fleshless face. “They’re immune to their own acid. At most, the slime will blind it for a bit until it can clear it out of its eyes.”

“Who are they?”

He didn’t answer immediately, too busy scanning the body with his screwdriver. Finally, after studying the readings he’d gathered for several silent moments, he stood.

“They’re Risorians,” he said. “Their home world died millennia ago, when its sun went nova. Very few of them are left.”

“So what are they doing here?” River asked.

“Looking to blend in, I expect.”

She stared at the dead man. “By eating people’s faces?”

“Exactly.”

“How does that work?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together. “You see the Risorians used nano-technology to develop a bio-shaping agent that ties in with their digestive systems. They can mimic the form of any living organism they ingest. They literally _are_ what they eat.”

“And they can do that just from eating the face?”

“Oh, no. No, in order to get the human form right, they’d have to eat an entire body. Which I’m sure our friend downstairs did at some point. But,” he raised a finger, “after that, they’d need to establish a new identity. Unless, of course, they wanted to take over the identity of the person they ate, but since they only absorb the physical form—not the person’s thoughts and memories—that isn’t easy to do.”

“So if they eat another face, then they can mimic it,” River surmised.

“Yes.”

“But doesn’t that leave them with essentially the same problem?”

“No, because the more faces they eat, the more features they have to play with…”

River opened her mouth in a silent “ah” of understanding. “And they can blend those features into a unique new identity.”

“Precisely.” The Doctor beamed in delight.

“Not a very nice way to settle into a new neighborhood,” River observed.

The smile fell away from the Doctor’s face. “No. But then that wasn’t the original purpose for developing the bio-shaping.”

“Oh?” River’s eyebrows arched. “Let me guess: getting in on all the hottest vacation spots?”

“Scientific curiosity, actually,” the Doctor said. “It was a means to study other species close up. The ultimate infiltration technique. At first, it was only used on non-intelligent beings. Well, for the most part,” he amended. “You know, there’s always a few in every crowd who have to ruin it for everyone else.”

“But now?” River prompted.

“Well, now it’s a matter of survival, isn’t it? It’s about finding a new home, setting down roots, and propagating the species. What are a few deaths here and there in comparison to letting an entire race die out?”

“I’m not sure our friend here would agree with that.” River nudged the body with her toe.

“No,” the Doctor said. “And it stops here. Tonight.”

As if to gainsay his words, the muffled sound of someone pounding on the inn’s door downstairs reached them.

“Oh, no,” The Doctor breathed. “Not now.”

“Maybe the Risorians won’t answer,” River suggested. “They must be rather occupied looking for us at the moment.”

“Do you really think so?” the Doctor asked hopefully.

“No, you’re right,” River sighed. “We couldn’t be that lucky.”

The Doctor sagged for a moment, then sprang into action. “Help me with this.” He began pulling the robes from the corpse. Within moments, they had the body stripped, and the Doctor natively attired.

“What are you going to do?” River asked.

“First things first: how do I look?” He struck a fashionable pose.

River shook her head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“No, you’re right,” he said. “It needs a fez.”

“It _really_ doesn’t,” River said with obvious exasperation.

But the Doctor had already thrown open the shutters, leaning out as far as he could to get a look at whoever was banging on the front door. “Oi,” he yelled. “Are you trying to wake the whole building?”

The man who’d been knocking stepped away from the door to peer up at the Doctor. He held the reins of a fat donkey, on which sat a very pregnant woman. One hand rested on her belly as her face contorted with pain.

“Are you the landlord?” the man asked in obvious desperation. “Please, sir, we need a room. My wife…”

The woman gasped, then moaned, leaning low over the donkey’s neck.

“Sorry. Terribly sorry. Can’t help. The inn’s completely full.” The Doctor made shooing motions at the couple below. “You’ll have to go somewhere else.”

“There’s no time,” the man said, steadying his wife so she wouldn’t fall from the donkey’s back. “The child is coming _now_.”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor muttered under his breath. “All right, fine,” he called. “There’s a barn around back. You can use that. But close the doors so you don’t disturb anyone. And… er… bolt them, too, so that no one… uh… disturbs _you_.”

He slammed the shutters on the man’s thanks, and turned to face River, raking a hand through his hair.

“How do you know there’s a barn out back?” River stared at him, perplexed. “We never went round that way.”

“Call it a hunch,” the Doctor said. “Come on, we have to keep the Risorians distracted.” He reached for the door.

“And just how do we do that?”

The Doctor jumped back as a large and presumably toothy body crashed against the other side of the door, shaking it on its hinges.

“Probably by dying a painful and messy death,” he answered.

“One would think you’d be tired of that by now.”

“A bit, yeah.” He conceded. “Okay, then. The roof. We need to get to the roof.” The door shook again under the weight of the alien smashing against it. “But not that way,” he added, eyeing the flimsy barrier dubiously.

 River moved to the window, pulling open the shutters and sticking her head out. She looked down, then up, then grinned at the Doctor. The alien slammed against the door again, and it began to buckle and splinter in the middle.

“Fancy a little night air?” Without waiting for a reply, River slid onto the window ledge and stood up. Outside, the holes created by the broken bricks, while not exceptionally deep, provided just enough space for precarious foot and hand-holds. With remarkable grace and speed, she began to scale her way up towards the roof.

The Doctor took one last look at the door, which was in imminent danger of demise as it took another pounding, and quickly followed River’s lead. He was halfway to the top and River was slithering over the edge when a thunderous crash from below was followed seconds later by the alien’s head thrusting out the window. It took only a moment for the creature to spot the Doctor, who had redoubled his efforts to reach the roof, and it hissed angrily before spitting another glob of acid at him.

The substance hit his left foot and he screamed as it began to eat away his shoe. Shaking his foot in desperation, he managed to fling off the quickly dissolving leather. The remnants, including a partially intact heel, plummeted, striking the irate alien solidly between the eyes. With a shriek of pain and indignation, it retreated back inside. The Doctor, one appendage still lightly smoking, scrambled the rest of the way up the side of the building, where River latched onto him, helping him over the roof’s ledge.

He rolled onto his back and lay still, catching his breath. River, still crouching beside him, surveyed the barren rooftop and let out a relieved sigh of her own.

“So. Here we are,” she observed with a dry smile. “Alone at last.”

“Under a beautiful, starry sky,” the Doctor agreed. “I did say, didn’t I?”

“What now?” River breathed, leaning over him and stroking a hand over his chest. “A little dining? A little dancing?”

The smile he returned was boyish, but his eyes were filled with warmth as he gazed up at her. “Well,” he began, but the sudden explosion of a Risorian ripping through a nearby trapdoor cut him off. He leapt to his feet, dragging River behind him as what was left of the trapdoor sailed away into the night, lost to sight in seconds. The alien bounded onto the roof, tail lashing and teeth bared.

“Doctor!” River cried, pushing him towards the hissing alien.

He backpedaled against her shove. “What are you--?” But a quick glance over his shoulder answered his unfinished question. A second alien was clambering up the wall onto the roof practically on top of where they stood. He gave ground, moving to a point equidistant between them. Fumbling for his sonic screwdriver, he pointed it first at one Risorian and then the other as the pair circled their prey.

“About that dinner and dancing…” River said, turning with the Doctor, back to back.

“Yes?”

“This isn’t what I meant.”

“No, I shouldn’t think so.”

“Tell me you have a plan,” River said, desperation in her voice.

“I have a plan.”

“Good. What is it?”

Before he could answer, however, another, smaller Risorian emerged from the hole in the roof, converging with the others, the circle tightening to an inescapable ring.

“Pretty much… this,” the Doctor replied, casting a nervous look at the adolescent newcomer. “Well, okay, I didn’t expect the third, but it’s all pretty much the same really.”

“This is your plan,” River said dubiously, hands poised as if ready to fight. “Trapped on the roof, surrounded, and about to be killed?”

“Well,” he hedged, frantically trying to keep his screwdriver trained on all three aliens at once, “Maybe not this exactly, but… you know… the being on the roof part.”

The creatures, now within striking distance, slowed their rotation and reared up, mouths opening in preparation for a three-pronged acid attack.

“Okay,” he admitted, “as plans go, this one may be a bit rubbish”

River laughed, a low, throaty and humorless laugh. “You know, I really hate you sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, a soft catch in her voice.

As one, River and the Doctor spun inwards, wrapping their arms around each other in a fierce, final embrace, screwing their eyes shut against the terrible death to come.

In that moment, a bright light flared to life in the night sky directly overhead. The building acid died gurgling in the Risorians’ throats as their black eyes grew round, staring mesmerized at the blazing new star. With a low, sad moan, the largest of the three sat back on its haunches, while the smallest moved to its side, seeking comfort. The third looked away, hanging its head as if unable to bear the sight.

Arms still locked tightly about River, the Doctor cracked open one eye, clearly unsure why he and his companion hadn’t been melted into goo yet. At the sight of the quietly mourning aliens, he opened the other eye and slowly released his hold on River. She, too, looked around in bemusement, then up at the star.

“Ah,” the Doctor breathed with obvious relief. “There it is. And not a moment too soon.”

“What?” River asked softly.

“It’s their sun gone nova. The light from it has just reached Earth.” His gaze traveled over the Risorians and his face softened with compassion. “They’re watching their world die.”

River crossed her arms. “Yes, well, while I’m sure that’s all quite distressing, it doesn’t justify murder.”

“What choice did we have?” The largest alien had reverted to human form, a small, wiry-framed woman whose brown face was lined with grief and worry. “Our race is dying out. We’ve tried settling on a dozen different worlds, but in the end mistrust for shape-changers has always led to the same result. Suspicion. Fear. Hostility. We’ve been driven away again and again.” She turned and ran a hand down the side of the young Risorian’s face as it towered over her small human form. “Don’t our children deserve a place to live in peace? Don’t they deserve a chance for a decent life?”

A long, piercing wail cut through the night from the barn below, followed seconds later by the cry from a healthy set of newborn lungs.

River gazed in the direction of the sound and shook her head. “What about the children of Earth? Don’t they deserve the same? I’m sorry, but the ends don’t justify the means.”

“If shape-shifting was the problem on all those other worlds,” the Doctor said, “why not just maintain your natural form?”

The male alien reverted back to the guise of the innkeeper. “We tried that,” he said. “Then we were the outsiders. The freaks. And just the fact that we had the ability to shift was enough to engender mistrust.”

“But your ability to shape-shift is a technological development.” River said. “Why not just get rid of it?”

“It’s not that easy,” said the woman. “The technology has become such a part of our genetic makeup that we can’t just separate it out. We’re born with it. It would take generations to undo it, and why should we?” She lifted her chin and stared at River defiantly. “Why should we not be accepted as we are?”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said. “But I can’t let you continue killing humans just so you can have a place to live.”

“Then we’ll die,” the woman said. Her face was hard, but there were tears in her eyes.

The Doctor stared at her for a long time, then a wide smile slowly spread across his face. “Not on my watch,” he said. To everyone’s surprise, he bounded over to the woman, picked her up and spun her in a circle before setting her back on her feet. Her alien child watched the proceedings with an expression of such startlement it was almost comical. “Not today!”

“But…what are you going to do?” asked the innkeeper.

“I’m going to save you,” the Doctor crowed. “I’m going to save all of you. All who are left.” He paused as if realizing what he’d just said. “Eh… how many is that, exactly?”

“Roughly twelve hundred,” the female said. “Scattered all over the land.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up and for a moment he was speechless. But he recovered quickly, rubbing his hands together. “Blimey. Well, that’s all right, the TARDIS can handle that. She can handle anything.” Spinning, he pointed a finger at the woman. “Get the word out. You’re leaving. You’re all leaving.”

“But where will we go?” The innkeeper asked, wringing his hands.

“I don’t know yet, but space is huge and time is infinite. Well, nearly. In all of that, we’re sure to find you a place you can call your very own.” He beamed around at his audience, but while River looked mildly impressed, the aliens wore troubled frowns.

“Why aren’t you smiling? I’ve just solved all your problems. You should be smiling,” he accused.

The human aliens exchanged a wordless glance, and then the innkeeper cleared his throat. “It’s just… why would you do that for us after all we’ve done? There are hundreds of us here, and we’ve all killed. More than once. That’s hundreds upon hundreds of humans murdered. Why… why would you help us?”

The Doctor sobered, and he dropped his gaze for several long moments as if unable to bear meeting their eyes. He didn’t speak until he was able to look at them again, and when he did, there was pain and terrible sadness in his voice. “I’ve done awful things, too. Worse than you. Far worse.”

River’s eyes grew bright with sympathy and she took a step towards him, but then checked herself with obvious effort.

“If I judge you,” the Doctor continued, “if I condemn you… if I can’t _forgive_ you,” he swallowed hard, “what hope is there for me?”

Silence fell over the little group and for a long time no one moved. Finally, the woman cleared her throat. “We never wanted to live this way, at the expense of others. If we could have found a better way, we would gladly have taken it.” She looked at the innkeeper, who nodded his agreement. “We’ll gladly take it now, if you’re serious about helping us.”

The Doctor drew in a deep breath and his face lit up once more. “Yes, of course I am. That’s what I do. Isn’t that what I do, River?”

“Every time,” she said, somewhat peevishly.

He turned to find River regarding him with a familiar look of resigned frustration. His happy grin wavered and he ran a hand awkwardly over the back of his hair.

“Uh… well… it doesn’t have to be tonight.” He cast a desperate look at the aliens. “We can start moving you out in the morning. As long as you promise not to eat anyone else in the meantime.” He nodded meaningfully towards the barn behind the inn.

River sighed. “No, we’re already here. We may as well get started.”

“Really?” The Doctor said, his expression hopeful but his tone wary.

“Yes, really. Come on,” she said to the woman. “I’ll help you clean up the body.”

The Doctor grimaced as River, the woman and the alien child disappeared through the open trap door.

“Don’t worry,” the innkeeper said. “No one’s going to miss that one. In fact, I can think of quite a few people who will be glad when he turns up missing.”

“What about the inn? What will happen to it?”

“There’s a young man who works here in the daytime. He’s a good lad from a poor family. I’ll leave him the deed to it. He’ll make a fine innkeeper.”

“Right then.” The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “Let’s go get you packed up.”

 

An hour later, the tranquility of the night air was disturbed by a distant, wheezing sound. The man who had brought his pregnant wife to the inn emerged from the barn and looked around, but the noise was already fading, and a few seconds later was gone. The night seemed unusually bright, and he turned his eyes up to see a new star glowing white-gold overhead. Something about it cast a sensation of peace over the quiet little town. With a small, contented smile, he admired the view for a moment and then returned to his wife and newborn child, asleep in the manger under the still, silent night.


End file.
